


Misery

by HoshisamaValmor (HannibalCatharsis)



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Victim Blaming, ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:26:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24325006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HannibalCatharsis/pseuds/HoshisamaValmor
Summary: Hector can't sleep, coming to terms with a troublesome truth.
Comments: 11
Kudos: 18





	Misery

A sense of purpose. A clear goal, with a defined course of action, to build a controlled human population.

By every standard, he had what he wished for.

Be careful what you wish for. Another truth so ironically and unapologetically shoved to his face.

Hector scoffed at himself. The sound wasn't nearly as pathetic as his self-pity was just days ago, and he had instead started to see it as a resignated self-disdain.

His new quarters were sublime by every sense of the word. He had an actual bed, bedsheets and a pile of pillows and comforters. It was a room built for royalty, not unlike his quarters in Dracula's castle in their aristocratic stand. It had wide windows from which he could see that breathtaking view of Styria. None of it helped. All of it was part of the problem. The daylight beaming through the curtains and spilling brightness into the room wasn't any more reason to stop him from sleeping.

Lenore let him sleep alone. After all, she said, it was his own room, and he deserved his privacy. This, of course, solely after he had pleased her.

But now that he was alone, he couldn't sleep.

Hector looked around the bedroom, not expecting to find anything particular that was preventing him from resting. The problem was the bedroom in and on itself, in its wideness, in its comfort, in its price. In his own stupidity that binded him to those luxurious quarters.

But he wouldn't change it for the cell. Another truth to slap him cold and harshly, one he couldn't escape either. He couldn't even pretend he would prefer to be lying naked on the cold floor surrounded by filth and eating moldy scraps. He didn't want that. He could withstand it, but he never would prefer it. It wouldn't mean he was free. It would just be a different hell.

_At least this is much more comfortable, isn't it?_

Hector sunk his face in his hands. Lenore was inside his head now, too. He couldn't escape the sound of her voice even when she wasn't in front of him. How fucking _stupid_ could he be to ever fall for-

Well, he was clearly very fucking stupid, and it wasn't likely to change soon, was it? Because the only thing he could think of to shut the voice of his consciousess that had now turned into Lenore's was to think of home, to wish of hiding and pretending nothing of it was real. God he wanted to go home so much.

He was surprised to find it wasn't Dracula's castle. No, he wanted to be _home_. _His_ home, his little dilapidated hut alone and away from everything, surrounded solely by the company of dead pets brought back to life.

What a sour taste that word now left on his tongue, on his mind simply by thinking on it. What an ironic and unapologetic truth.

He was so fucking stupid. So childish. ' _I want to go home_ '. What grown-up adult would think of that as any viable wish when they had entangled themselves so much in their own mistakes? None. Only a child would. No wonder Lenore tricked him. No wonder Carmilla tricked him. No wonder _Dracula_ lied to him. It was simply impossible not to take advantage of someone who was so idiotic.

Maybe a subconscious part of him _did_ wish for this. This was all his own fault, from the start. His own naiveness had brought him where he stood, and clearly, his only coping attempt was wishing he could be back in a place where, by the consummation of his own wishes and of Dracula's plan, he would inevitably be dead with the rest of the humans. Maybe he simply wasn't strong enough to make his own path, and had therefore become acceptant of following others even if they tricked him. Like a pet.

Hector grit his teeth in frustration. That self-pity was now full self-disdain. This was all his own doing. He _wanted_ to be here, in his new condition of luxury pet, working for a group of vampires that were creating his own ideal view of human management, even if it was for their individual interests. That was what he effectively had wished for. _Everything_ was as he had wished for, one way or the other. So that was for the best, wasn't it? That was his pattern of behaviour: being lied to and tricked into doing things for others.

 _That_ was why he couldn't sleep.

Hector was tired of finding comfort in misery.

.

the end

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**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Disclaimer at the end but I obviously don't own anything in Castlevania.


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